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Practice For Hope
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Qwel
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1
it breaks me down to think how we've grown
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but i still see you as a shorty, i'm the sucker i know
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i realize it but don't believe it and hopefully you'll get home
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my soul to keep we both the suckers not just bustin in poems
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receivin letters gotta stack of em scratch on my soul
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like prison bars with clenchin fists grippin
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it's practice for hope
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i read a kite flown like nine times
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and slide out a pen
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to recollect upon our youth and truth like nine outta ten
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when cinder blocked locked and hollowed
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right's a hard walk to follow
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tomorrow's never promised
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honest, but honestly i trust that God knows
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our struggles, Harvey to the Jungle
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it's hard to be humble
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when all we sees trouble and poverty bubbles
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and policies stumbled
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some fam man
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when i cried all i can
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tried to be the bigger brother
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hide my smile in my hands
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to swallow piling sands of time slide in
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Mike got a daughter
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i try to hit you with some hope and sight the mics i done slaughtered
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i brought it to 'em like we said we would i see you sometimes
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in the strangest heinous places painted faded sunshine
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you're like a shorty to me still son
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ghost is my celly
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remembrance of yesters essences
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much love your bro qwelly
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I think about it sometimes i think about how we've grown
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I think about you still a shorty, who's the sucker i know
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i realize it but don't believe it and hopefully you'll get home
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my soul to keep we both the suckers not just bustin in poems
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i think about it when i'm eatin this burger
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how you aint free to eat burgers
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just stuck for lust sleepin with murderers
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it turns this burger into sand in my stomach who knew
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that we'd be livin our lives decisions
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skewed hued through a skewed view
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a cruel youth produces bruised fruit
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philosophies land fill
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systems inducin cats that curiosity just cant kill
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its lock and key and stand still no sleep for our brethren
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treatin kings just like they slaves COs readin our letters
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depletin our centers and leavin weepin mothers in winter
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it drives our fathers to insanity when families splintered
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cause a letters never a hug and now my windows just pain (pane)
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sittin like a shitty whisper in its rain painted frame
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this pain painted brain strain for prayin burstin insane
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cursed to burdens here were chained to this earth spin
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it turns us into monsters fightin beasts from its belly
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i still be prayin for your freedom every second dog love and peace qwelly
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it breaks me down to think how we've grown
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but i still see you as a shorty, i'm the sucker i know
57
we realize it but don't believe it and hopefully you'll get home
58
my soul to keep we both the suckers not just bustin in poems
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